


Out of the Cold

by oratorio



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Christmas, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:39:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9154612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oratorio/pseuds/oratorio
Summary: Shepard and Joker have made it through the worst of times, and they've always stayed together.  Years on, they've built a life and traditions together.  Yet at times, the past returns to haunt them.  Luckily, they know each other so well, they know just how to handle it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Mass Effect Fanfiction Writers Facebook group drabble challenge with the theme of Winter.
> 
> It's a bit different to my usual works as it takes place some years after the events of the main story, plus it's a bit cheesy! Hope you enjoy nonetheless.

It was snowing.

Kira glanced out of the window at the fat, white flakes before pulling the curtains closed so forcefully that the metal pole they hung from shook. She sighed.

“I guess that’s our plans out of the window, then.”

She and Jeff were meant to go to the Christmas markets, something that had become a bit of a tradition for them each year. She loved the mulled cider and the gingerbread houses, strolling hand-in-hand with her old pilot while they browsed the little stalls for unique gifts.

But this year, it was snowing.

She sank down on to their big overstuffed sofa and flicked the television on, finding a channel showing old Christmas movies. She loved this time of year, provided it wasn’t white.

Jeff sat down beside her, reaching for her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I was looking forward to today,” he said.

“So was I,” Kira said, shrugging her shoulders, “but, you know.”

“I know.”

She couldn’t remember dying. She had already been dead long before her body had collided with the surface of that inhuman planet, coming to rest alongside the detritus of the ship that had been more like home to her than anywhere else had ever been. She wouldn’t have felt the cold and the snow, not then.

Yet she remembers that day when she had to return, to lay down a memorial to those who were her friends and crewmates, and to bring back all she could of those who died. She remembers too well the sombre steps through the snow, digging at drifts to retrieve dog-tags and belongings. Remembers the twisted and frozen metal, the carcass of the Normandy torn open like prey. Finding her own N7 issue helmet, battered and broken almost beyond recognition, half-buried under ice. The howl of the wind, the glare of the harsh blue daylight reflecting off the whiteness. The never-ending, desolate whiteness of it all.

It seems ridiculous, she knows, that of all the things she has seen it was this which broke her, which has stayed in her nightmares. But she can’t even look at snow any more. It makes her think of the bodies that lie beneath it, in another galaxy a long way from this one. 

Briefly, she felt guilty that her fear of snow had ruined the day for both of them. She had to remind herself that Jeff hated this weather, too - one small slip and he could be in hospital for weeks. A day indoors would be best for them both.

Engrossed in the cheesy movie, she barely took notice of what Jeff had been doing. She assumed he had wandered off to surf the net, or play games in the den. But as the credits rolled, the kitchen door opened, and a strong scent of warm spices assailed her nostrils.

“What are you doing out there?” she called.

Jeff came through the door, struggling under the weight of a large tray. Slowly he made his way across the room and bent painfully to place it on the coffee table in front of Kira.

Her eyes widened as she took in the contents of the tray. Two large mugs, filled with an amber liquid which let off steam in thin swirling tendrils, emitting an aroma of fruit, cloves and cinnamon. And a round blue plate, upon which was arranged a number of gingerbread men. Each one was different, and each had a name iced on to their chest. Here was a standard gingerbread man, just like the ones on sale at the markets. “Kaidan”, it said. Another, massive and misshapen, read “Wrex”. A tall, thin and weirdly spiked one was iced with “Garrus”. This one here had multi-coloured icing tattoos all over it and a furious expression. “Jack”.

Kira looked up at Jeff, grinning. “These are amazing. You’re not just a pretty face, it seems.”

“Pretty face, greatest pilot who ever lived and the world’s best pastry chef.”

“Not sure about that,” Kira said. “But world’s best boyfriend is not in any doubt.”

“I’ll take it,” Jeff said, sinking down on the sofa next to her and wrapping his arm around her waist. “So. Who are you gonna eat first?”

“Ah come on,” Kira said. “That’s not fair. You could at least have made a Kai Leng one or something.”

“Would’ve tasted too bitter,” Jeff said, leaning into her shoulder. “You know you’re gonna bite Kaidan’s head off, right? Just do it.”

Kira laughed and kissed his cheek. “God, you’re so weird.”

“That’s why we’re perfect together.”

“I know,” she murmured, humming in pleasure as she nibbled on gingerbread-Kaidan’s hair. “I love you so much, Jeff.”

Jeff ruffled her hair. “I love you too, Kira. Always.”


End file.
